


Of a Feather

by templefugate



Series: Sam Wilson Appreciation Fics [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bird Loving Nerds, Birds, Bonding, Crossover, Drabble, Espionage, Gen, One Shot, POV Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:56:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5986828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templefugate/pseuds/templefugate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Wilson's interactions with super villains were usually a lot more violent and far less enjoyable. This really was quite a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of a Feather

When Natasha had said something about going undercover, he had expected something involving a few more explosions and a little less alcohol. Sam stared absently down at the drink he was nursing and had yet to actually taste. Wine was good in its own time, but right then he doubted that it would do him much good. If this really was as urgent as Nat had made it out to be, and judging by the tight lines that had appeared across her face when she spoke it was, then the last thing he needed was to ingest something that would mess with his system. That included the chocolate croissants that were being served that night. No matter how tempting the flaky, warm treats were, each one that floated by on a waiter’s tray looking more appetizing than the last, he knew that he couldn’t have one. His sweet tooth was not going to risk this mission.

Sam had heard a lot about Gotham City, for the good and the bad, over the years. Like New York City, it had gotten its own fair share of super villains hell bent on destruction and domination. But, unlike New York, it seemed to do just fine with only a handful of heroes at most defending it. If S.H.I.E.L.D. had its way then the Avengers would have descended on the city years before. Yet, despite Nick Fury’s insistence, the city had always fended well for itself.

At least until now.

Absently, Sam’s eyes moved towards the window. It was one thing to see the outline of the legendary Batman on TV and an entirely different thing to see it dancing across the Gotham skyline. Whether or not he really would appear didn’t matter, Sam’s eyes moving towards the window anyway by only the mere hope of a glimpse.

Momentarily, Sam’s eyes fell again on his untouched glass of wine. Considering the venue, it was the biggest waste of twelve bucks that he’d ever spent, even if it was on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s dollar. It wasn’t even halfway full, but judging by the menu prices he couldn’t imagine how most anyone could ever get an even a second cup.

No, Sam reminded himself.He wasn’t Sam Wilson that night. Alexander Edwards was the name and information was his game. The briefing on the plane ride over had been crystal clear and quickly spoken, the directions more like something a director would say to a newly hired actor. He was to play the role to the best of his ability because, at least to other people’s concern, he was that man. Sam Wilson, like the Falcon, had become a costume to put on and then shed as needed.

Alexander Edwards certainly was not the drinking type.

"Excuse me, sir,” a voice said suddenly. “Is everything quite alright?”

Sam stiffened, looking behind him. His hand reached towards his side, batting at air.

“My apologies for startling you,” the voice continued. For a moment it seemed disconnected from the man speaking, as if it came from an entirely separate entity itself. Yet, slowly, his brain clicked the two together like jigsaw puzzle pieces and the voice and man suddenly flowed together. “You must have been more lost in thought than I originally assumed.”

“My apologies,” Sam - Alexander - said. “I have other things going on later tonight and got rather distracted.” 

He looked the other man over. He was short and round, with small eyes that were overshadowed by his long nose and lanky lips. The suit he wore looked as though it had never been touched before a day in his life, as if it had been just been bought earlier solely to be worn that night and then forgotten the next day.

Oswald, Sam thought instinctively. He had gotten a Gotham history lesson during his plane ride brief, a summary that could have filled a whole textbook had there been time to extend it. From what he knew, Gotham had three main families in control - Cobblepott, Wayne, and Kane. Had things gone a bit differently a few decades past then it likely would have been the Cobblepotts, not the Waynes, as the faces of the city that everyone saw.

“As I was mentioning,” the man said, straightening his back, “is everything alright?”

"Why do you ask?” Sam forced his body to stay rigid, when all he wanted to do was suddenly to get up and fight. Yet, despite his instincts, he remained still and calm.

He remained Alexander Edwards.

Even before his impromptu Gotham City history lesson, Sam knew who this guy was. His face had made headlines for all the wrong reasons. Embezzlement and fraud may not have been as immediately catastrophic as a tyrannical killer robot, but the ideas made Sam’s skin crawl all the same.

"As the owner of this fine establishment, you must understand that I worry about my guests.” His eyes wondered over to Sam’s empty wine glass. “You did look rather pensive. I thought there might have been something wrong with your drink.”

Sam shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine.” He paused. “It’s just not for me.”

Oswald’s eyes widened. “Oh? Did the waiters perhaps mix up your order or-”

“No, no,” Sam cut him off. “I just made the mistake of ordering this and thinking that it would clear my head.”

"Oh, I see.” His face softened and, despite the crowds of people thronging the establishment (with many more entering by the minute), Oswald pulled out a seat and sat across the table from him. He looked at Sam in such a way that Sam had to wonder if he had forgotten about everyone else in the room. “Busy minds can be useful at times, but often can be the most dreadful things. What seems to be your problem?”

This was certainly much ritzier than complaining to any old bartender. Sam’s eyes looked to his glass, to the people around him, and finally back at Oswald’s eyes. Why had Natasha thought that this would be a good idea again? What about him had seemed fit for this job again? The profile of Alexander Edwards suddenly had gone empty in his mind. The identity really was a costume, nothing but the bare bones that could be seen by another viewer.

Information, Sam reminded himself. You were sent here for information.

But how could he expect to get information about Cobblepott and The Iceberg Lounge if he didn’t even know who he himself was supposed to be?

“I’m an ornithologist.” The words slipped from his lips before his brain could fully process them, the half truths as slippery as soft butter. “I was sent here to meet up with some other researchers, and though we’re officially starting our work tomorrow, I was going to meet up with some other researchers tonight to discuss the possibilities ahead of us.”

For a moment, Oswald only stared at him wide eyed. Then, a large, toothy grin spread across his thin lips. “An ornithologist, you say? Just what kind are you, my fellow?”

“I mainly study Midwestern birds,” Sam began. “When I was a boy, I was fascinated by the birds that flew just outside my window, so my study has mainly focused on them.” He smirked. “Were you expecting, or rather hoping for, me to say that I specialize in arctic species?”

“Oh, dear, no,” Oswald responded.He chuckled. “My flock can hold more than just my namesake.”

Like information remembered suddenly, at a crucial moment, another fact slid across Sam’s mind, one that the newspapers usually left out. Cobblepott, though famous for his Penguin alias, was a fan of all things fowl and feathered.

“I must admit, I’ve always been tense about working with new people, so I got a bit distracted. Drinks actually aren’t the best for clearing my head.”

“Ah, I can certainly see why. Your research is absolutely crucial, after all, but its findings are dependent on just who is doing the studying.” There was something magnetic about Oswald when he spoke that naturally brought Sam’s eyes towards him. Even if he had wanted to investigate the room around him, he doubted that he would have even been able to.

"You’re certainly correct.” Alexander chuckled. Whomever he had been before didn’t matter; now, Sam could picture him perfectly in his mind, and Oswald could see him sitting across from him. “Some of my fellow peers back in college certainly made studying hard.” As he spoke, Oswald never seemed to look away. Though people noticed Sam Wilson, they didn’t seem to notice him in quite the way that they did Alexander Edwards. For once, a criminal was at the tip of his fingers and he wasn’t about to make them bleed and bruise.

“Oh, coworkers can be a nightmare.” Oswald waved his hand absently around him at nothing in particular. “I’d say to work independently, but that isn’t always a choice.” His smile widened. “Now what, my good man, are you studying exactly?”

“The plumage around various native Gotham species,” Sam replied. Again, the words came quickly and easily. “Some researchers have gotten worried that certain species are beginning are beginning to develop less feathers than normal due to changes in their environment. They seem rather alarmed, so I’m hoping, against my better judgement, that our findings will prove the hypothesis false.”

“I’d never heard that before.” His face paled.“Oh, it’s not immediately noticeable by the naked eye.” Sam continued speaking, each word sliding out faster than the last. “But once it got noticed, researchers got concerned.”

“Oh dear, those poor creatures.” His eyes turned towards the large tank set in the center of the room, where his namesake flightless birds swam and sashayed across artificial ice and filtered water. “Is there any chance that it could be affecting other species?”

“From what I know, no,” Sam responded. “Though this is based only on a number of species. We’d still have to look at birds throughout other areas to see if this is just a Gotham problem.” He held his hand out, cupping Oswald’s with his own. “If there is, of course, a problem at all. Besides, your birds face quite different conditions in here then they ever would outside in the wild. You must always take the status of if they are wild or domesticated into account.”

Oswald nodded. “Yes, yes, of course.”

The night continued on, with words passing between them as easily as drinks and dances did between the club’s other guests. Oswald’s eyes lit up, his movements and voice electric, with Alexander replying in much the same manner. Were it not for the debauchery seeking guests around them, then any passerby might have thought the two were vividly discussing together at a research facility or library instead.

When the clock struck eleven, the sound ringing over the heavy sound of the other guest’s chatter, Sam froze. He needed to leave soon. There was only so much time that he was allowed on this mission, and it was running dangerously short. He still needed to meet back with his supervisors later.

“I must apologize,” Sam said, suddenly sitting up. He wiped at his suit jacket and pants, as if trying to erase invisible crumbs and nonexistent stains. “I lost track of time and remembered that I still must meet with my other researchers.”

“My apologies!” It wasn’t the first time that Sam had seen the man get worried about him. Sam blinked, and suddenly the man in front of him returned to normal. The electric air around him vanished, the magnetic connection gone. Once again, he was just a man, not ordinary by any means, and certainly not one that could immediately be called innocent.

That, Sam realized, was the least deadly interaction I’ve ever had with a super villain. Not to mention the most enjoyable.

"I must apologize for keeping you,” Oswald said as he himself began to stand up. 

“Is there anything that I can do for you?” 

Sam shook his head. “You’ve already done more than enough. My head is actually thinking straight again.”

The man beamed. “I’m glad that I could have been of service.” He stepped forward and held out his hand, and Sam quickly grabbed it in return. The shake between them was quick and firm. “If you ever feel like dropping by again, do feel free to, and drop a word to one of my staff that you’ve by if you don’t mind. I do believe we’d have quite a bit more to discuss.”

“I quite agree.”

The man’s voice rang through Sam’s mind even as he continued out. In a way, it was hard to think of him as the Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepott. By all means, they certainly were the same person; there was no rational way to deny that. Still, thinking of the criminal that so often was splattered across TV screens and newspapers all across the country and the man that had discussed birds with him for hours, they seemed like polar opposites.

But then again, Sam Wilson and Alexander Edwards couldn’t truly be called the same person, could they?

Identity and masks, costumes and capers, birds and business, rang through Sam’s mind as he walked across Gotham. The further he walked away from the lounge, the quieter it got. Birds flew through Sam’s brain, everything from cardinals to pigeons to penguins. Once he was far enough away, he turned on his connection link.

“Sam?” Natasha’s voice rang through his ears in a static filled crackle. “Sam, are you okay? Did you learn what we needed?”

"More than enough,” Sam replied, picking up his pace. “I can’t tell you everything now, but you and Fury are going to be pleased.”

"Good,” she replied. “You remember where the pick up point is, correct?”

“How could I forget?” Sam picked up his pace. As he walked, his eyes remained locked on the sky. A few birds raced across the sky, wings outstretched and beaks out, though no bats appeared, human-like or not. Still, his eyes remained locked up above, ready for any changes that might suddenly sweep the sky.


End file.
